Saturday, June 20, 2009

The joys of deletion

Just came back from the public restroom and still love the humor of deleted letters:

Push butt
rub gently under arm
tops all

I remember reading that in 3rd grade in the bathroom at Rock Cut.

In Sycamore. A beautiful, sunny, almost muggy day. Picnic lunch is packed and the woman, son and I are going to a free folk festival at the Gurler House in DeKalb.

Free is good.

Tops all.

I think Sycamore has a diabolical history. There are Masonic symbols all over the downtown buildings. And they host a Pumpkin Festival, centered around Halloween. There's nothing in the history wing here at the library about animal sacrifice rituals, but I'll keep looking. I woke up early and saw a brigade of citizens wearing red Snuggies walking in lockstep down the middle of Center Cross Street!


I wrote E. a sonnet for Mother's Day, but she didn't get it until weeks later. Yesterday, she gave me a Jonny-made Father's Day card. I thanked her for her timeliness.

Why do I write E and "the woman?" The person whom I'm referring to is very private about her E-life and was alarmed at my plan to post all of my videos and pictures online. This is a way of preserving records. Discs get scratched and computers crash. Plus, I told her, nobody cares. There's nothing scandalous or even all that funny, and there's nothing involving Britney Spears. I appeased her concerns with a promise to never use full names. So... look for a slew of pics and videos soon.

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